Insomnia
by FallenAngel218
Summary: Sam isn't sleeping...at all. Dean is having nightmares from hell. Takes place after 4x02 "Are You There, God? It's Me, Dean Winchester" . I have also included spoilers for later on in S4. Beware! Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **__This story is partly introspection. It takes place after 4x02. Poor Dean is silently suffering, and Sam seems to be going through the motions._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters. I am simply bending my creativity a bit. **_

__It was 3 a.m. in Rapid City, South Dakota. Dean passed out immediately after they'd returned from their latest hunt. Sam, however, lay in bed, staring at the tiled ceiling in their room. He'd counted them over and over, hoping it would bore him into falling asleep. Two hours and 947 tiles later, Sam's eyes were still wide open. The thought of angels raising his brother from the grave, and the apocalypse looming in the distance made it hard for him to fall asleep.

Throwing the covers from his body, he got up and went over to the table, where a number of books lay open. He'd been pouring through them, taking in any information he could about angels, and the apocalypse. Among them was a Bible, turned to the Book of Revelation. He bought it after Dean died, but it gave him little comfort. With his brother back, and signs of the apocalypse around them, it was time he cracked it open. As he read through the first few chapters of Revelation, Dean stirred. Sam watched his brother toss and turn. Every so often, the older hunter would let out a whimper, followed by a cry of pain. Sam knew he wasn't really in pain, so he continued to read.

Sam quit on Revelation around 5 a.m., and moved on to looking for a case. He had to get his brother out of the motel room. Dean had fallen into a depression of sorts, and for days at a time, he'd hole up in the hotel room, surrounded by whiskey bottles. As he surfed the Internet, Dean cried out in his sleep. Instead of a cry of pain, a name escaped his lips.

"Alastair…please…don't….please stop…" the words came out intermittently, and were followed by more tossing and turning. Sam turned back to his computer screen, but about 30 seconds passed before Dean let out a horrific yell. It sounded like someone was cutting off a limb.

Sam jumped up and went to his brother's bedside.

"Dean," he said, shaking Dean's shoulder to wake him. "Dean, wake up!" Instead of waking up, Dean turned over onto his back, swinging his arm toward Sam's face. Sam took a step back, Dean's flying hand came inches from his face. Sam grabbed his brother's wrist and lowered the flailing arm. "Dean! Come on man! Wake up!" he shook his brother again, this time more violently.

Dean's entire body flinched, and he flew up into a sitting position, sucking in a deep, audible breath. He looked around him slowly. He was in a motel room. With Sam. No hell, and no Alastair.

"Are you all right?" Sam finally asked.

"Yeah—yeah I'm good. What time is it?"

"About 5:15 in the morning."

Dean got out of bed and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He turned on the hot water and leaned over the sink, splashing water into his face. He wasn't in hell anymore, but the images were seared in his brain. He couldn't go to sleep at night without seeing that bastard with his knife, slicing into Dean like he was a side of beef. He remembered the pain, the blood and tears shed when he got off the rack and started the torture himself.

He could never tell his brother any of that. Sam would never understand what he went through. Hell, he didn't even seem concerned.  
>He caught a look at himself in the mirror as he straightened his body. He looked ragged. He'd been getting more sleep than his brother, but it didn't show in his face.<p>

A sharp knock at the door brought him out of his thoughts. That kid never left him alone. He gathered himself together and opened the door. Sam was standing with his fist raised, ready to knock again.

"I can pee by myself, Sam." He blew by his brother on his way back to bed, knocking Sam's shoulder on the way. Sam followed his brother across the room.

"I just wanted to see if you wanted some coffee…that's all."  
>Dean sat down on the end of the bed. There was no way he'd get back to sleep now.<p>

"Yeah, sorry. Grab me a cup. And breakfast."

"You got it. I'll be back soon." Sam took the keys to the Impala and quickly left the room.

When his brother had gone, he got up and wandered over to the table, where Sam's research was spread out in the form of papers and open books. The younger Winchester had been researching the apocalypse, looking for more signs. Dean admired his brother's determination, but the kid hadn't slept in days. The subject of angels and the apocalypse was consuming Sam.

Sam returned with the coffee a half hour later, and found Dean on the computer, looking through an online newspaper. He set one of the coffees next to Dean on the table, along with a fast food bag. Dean took a breakfast sandwich from the bag and hungrily unwrapped it.

"I found us a case," he said, chomping on his food. When he didn't get a response from Sam right away, he looked over at his brother, only to find him chugging his coffee like water.

"Sam!"

At the sound of his name, Sam stopped drinking the coffee and looked at his brother.

"Are you okay, Sam?"

"I'm fine." He pulled up a chair next to Dean. "What did you find?"

"There's a string of disappearances two towns over. Little kids snatched from their bed. All girls, all under the age of 10."

"Sounds like a job for the cops," Sam said as he took a sip of his coffee. His voice echoed into the almost-empty cup as he put it to his mouth.

"Get this… all the windows and doors in the house were locked, and according to this, four out of the five kids that were taken have bedrooms on the second floor of the house."

"Nothing human can scale the side of a house," Sam pointed out.

"My thoughts exactly."

"Should we get going? Check this thing out?" Sam asked, bending to pick up the weapons bag next to the table.

"Slow down for just a second, will you? You've been running around here the past few days like you're on speed or something."

Sam wasn't listening. He was too busy putting on his boots – or rather, Dean's boots.

"You do realize you're putting on _my _boots, right?"

No answer.

"Sam! Look at me damn it!"

Finally, Sam looked up.

"What?"

"You're putting on my boots, dude. Get your own."

Sam looked down at his feet. He had indeed put on his brother's shoes. He quickly took them off and put on his own shoes.

"Sorry…I guess I'm a little out of it today."

"Try sleeping…I hear it does wonders," Dean snapped back.

"There's no time to sleep. Gotta stop the apocalypse." He started packing their bags.

"Come on, clean that stuff up. We've got a case to check out."  
>Dean sighed and shook his head. Caffeinated Sam was not going to be fun on this road trip. He gathered the papers and computer. Sam was running in and out of the room, grabbing bags. Dean could feel a headache coming on already. It was going to be a long ride…<p>

_**A/N: I am going to leave this story incomplete…if anyone has ideas for a chapter two, please let me know! I would love to continue it!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Apologies for the delay in getting chapter two up. It took a while to decide what to do. I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters.

They only had to drive for about an hour, but Dean feared for his life the whole ride to the small town of Lakeville. Sam had almost gotten them in two car accidents. He'd run a stop light leaving the last town, and almost drove the Impala into a ditch on the highway. Dean snatched the keys from him as soon as they arrived at the first victim's home.

"You are _not _driving anymore." Glaring at Sam, he walked ahead of him up to the front porch, where the girl's parents were seated.

"Mr. and Mrs. Casey?"

"That's right," said Mr. Casey, rising from the glider he and his wife were sitting on. "Can I help you gentleman?"

"I'm Agent Stanwick, FBI, this is Agent Babar. We're here to investigate your daughter's disappearance."

Mr. Casey paused for a moment, looking over at his wife. She nodded slowly.

"I put Amanda to bed around eight," he started, voice cracking slightly. "I went to check on her around eleven, and she was gone." He sat down on the glider, suddenly unable to bear his own weight. "She's only five years old, agents. How could a five year old climb out of a second story window?"

"We know how hard this is for you and your wife," Sam said gently. "We promise we'll do everything we can to find her and bring her home." Mr. Casey nodded slowly, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Is it possible for us to look at Amanda's room?" Sam asked, after a moment. Mrs. Casey nodded, and led them into the house.

SPNSPNSPN

"This looks like a typical kidnapping to me, Dean." Sam said later that day as they drove around looking for a motel.

"You missed the blood on the windowsill, Sam. There's a changeling in that neighborhood. That's the only thing that kidnaps kids that young."

"So, we find the mother's den, kill her and bring the kids home?"

"That's the plan."

Dean turned into the first motel he saw, and parked by the office.

"Before we go hunting anything, you're going to get some sleep. I don't need your clumsy, over tired self slipping up and shooting me in the head or something."  
>Sam rolled his eyes as Dean got out of the car and went into the office to get a room. He'd humor his brother, but he didn't feel tired at all.<p>

SPNSPNSPN

When night fell, Sam and Dean packed the car and headed off to find the Changeling's den. If it was anything like the one he killed in the gated community Lisa and Ben once lived in, it would be shacked up in an empty house

It didn't take long to find one in the small neighborhood. Dean gave his brother a bag with some items that one could use to make a homemade torch. He slung a similar bag over his shoulder, and they snuck around the back of the house. There were no lights on inside, except for a room upstairs.

"Sam, you take the basement," Dean said, pointing to a set of old fashioned farmhouse cellar doors. "I'll go in through the back door. If you have trouble, shout. No heroics. Understand?"

"Yeah, Dad, I got it."

"Shut up."

Sam dropped his bag in front of the cellar doors and took out an aerosol can and a Zippo lighter. Holding the can in front of him, he flung open the basement door and slowly crept down the steps. His silent approach, however, was foiled by the creaking staircase. The sight that greeted him was not much different than when they rescued Ben. There were four or five cages on the floor. Three of them had occupants. Two little boys shared one, a 10-year old girl had the second to herself, and a scared little girl occupied the third. From her honey blonde hair and big blue eyes, he recognized her as Amanda Casey. Sam texted his brother to let him know what he'd found.

_kids in basement. Hurry. _

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he proceeded to unlock the cages and let the kids out. As he opened the last cage to let Amanda out, he heard a crash from upstairs, and he heard Dean yell. Quickly he turned to the 10-year old girl, the oldest child in the group.

"Take everyone up the cellar steps and into the backyard. Run home as fast as you can, and don't look back, understand?"

The little girl nodded and quickly took her new friends up the stairs and out of the house. With spray can and lighter held out in front of him, Sam made his way up the basement steps. He rammed his body into the basement door and it flew open, just in time for him to see Dean fly across the room. The mother changeling was a woman in a blazer and skirt, hair neatly pinned into a bun and wearing black rimmed glasses. Sam thought she looked like a librarian.

"Sam! A little help would be nice!" Dean shouted as he writhed on the floor. Get your ass over here and fry the bitch!"

Sam came out of his trance and pushed down the trigger on the hair spray can. He lit the lighter and held the flame into the spray stream. Instantly his innocent stream of hair spray turned into a stream of fire. He rushed toward the changeling, aiming right for her chest. The changeling burned before their eyes, finally exploding into a big fireball.

SPNSPNSPNSPN

Dean threw open the door to their motel room, furiously shouting.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Sam? You kicked that door in, and then you just stood there while that bitch threw me around the room for ten minutes!"

"I'm sorry Dean, I zoned out—"

"That's the last time I want to hear that you zoned out, Sam. I could've died in that house tonight!"

"I saved a bunch of kids today, Dean! Because of me, they are all back with their families!"

Dean sat down at the table. Sam wasn't getting the point, and he was growing frustrated with the argument.

"We save people every day, Sam. That's our job. What we count on from each other is support, backup when we're down. You didn't give me that today, Sam. You stood by while I got thrown around by a changeling."

Dean paused for a moment. _Nah, Sam wouldn't fake a nap, would he? That's got to be it. The kid hasn't slept in days!_

"How well did you sleep this afternoon, Sammy?" he asked skeptically. Sam didn't say anything for a moment. Finally he looked his brother in the eye, and told him the truth.

"I slept fine." Well, maybe not the _whole _truth.

"You're lying to me. You didn't sleep at all. You can't lie to me, Sam."

Dean got up from the table and walked over to the bed where Sam was sitting. "Give me your gun right now."

"What?

"You heard me. Until you get at least eight hours of sleep, I don't trust you with a weapon anymore. You're over tired and off your game, and that makes you dangerous with a weapon."

Sam huffed and handed his .45 over to his brother. Dean took it over to his bed and tucked it under his pillow.

"I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same." With that Dean stripped down to his t shirt and boxers, and climbed into bed.

Sam lay down on top of the covers. He could at least _try _to sleep. It couldn't hurt, could it?


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: **__Thanks everyone for your continued patience with this story.____Hopefully we can get Sammy to get some sleep!_

_**Disclaimer: Do not own them, but I really wish I did!**_

Night turned into morning, and Sam still could not fall asleep. He spent the night listening to the ticking clock on the wall. Normally, something so mundane as a clock wouldn't give him a second thought. As he lay there that night, however, he was sure he could hear a pattern in the ticking. He tried to close his eyes and let the rhythm lull him to sleep, but he was still wide awake when daylight peeked through the thinning brown curtains.

Taking the car keys from his brother's jacket, he left to go get breakfast. Sliding behind the wheel of Dean's car, he started the engine, knowing its loud roar would certainly wake Dean. He slowly backed the car out of the space, and headed for the exit to the street.

In his haste to get to the coffee shop, Sam neglected to stop at the stop sign before he pulled out of the parking lot. A man in a pickup truck blared his horn and swerved to avoid hitting the Impala. Sam ignored it and kept driving.

It only took him 15 minutes to get to the coffee shop and back, and in that time Sam had almost caused 5 accidents. He took a deep breath as he pulled back into the parking lot, grateful that he hadn't had an accident. As he pulled back into his parking spot, he neglected to cut the wheel far enough. His turn was wider than anticipated, and the Impala collided with the vehicle in the next spot.

Thinking quickly, Sam backed up the car and pulled it into the spot successfully. He jumped out and ran around front to assess the damage. Dean's left headlight was smashed, and there was a big dent on the fender. The other vehicle, a Chevy Tahoe, was unscathed. There was _no _way Dean was ever going to let him drive the Impala again. Taking a deep breath, he went back to the car to get the food and coffee, and slowly walked toward the motel room.

Dean had just exited the bathroom when Sam came in.

"Oh good, you got breakfast!" Dean snatched the bag and took out a breakfast sandwich. "So how did you sleep last night, Sam?"

"Fine." Sam awkwardly sat down at the table and sipped his coffee, his back turned to Dean. He wasn't sure how to tell him he'd dented the car, without his brother wanting to strangle him.

"You didn't sleep again, did you Sam?" Dean asked him as he took the lid off of his coffee cup. When Sam didn't respond, Dean looked over to see what he was doing. Sam was nibbling at his breakfast sandwich, with a book open in front of him. He could tell right away that Sam was trying to avoid telling him something. He went over to the table and sat across from him.

"What's the matter, Sam?"

"Nothing."

"I can tell you're fake reading, Sam. What happened?"

Sam took a deep breath and closed the book. It was better he tell Dean about the accident than letting him see it for himself.

"I may have, um, dented the car."

"What?" Dean jumped up and bolted for the door. Sam ran after him.

"Dean! Wait!" Sam got to the door in time to see Dean standing in front of the Impala, staring at the broken headlight. Sam slipped on his sneakers and went outside to join him.

"Dude, I am _so_ sorry… I didn't cut the wheel enough when I was pulling in, and – "

"How could you be so careless, Sam? Look at my headlight! Do you know how long it's going to take me to find new parts to fix that?"

"I'm really sorry –"

"I don't want to hear it, Sam. Just, stop."

Dean took out his phone and dialed Bobby's number. They were going to have to park the Impala at his place while Dean got the parts to fix it. He skulked across the parking lot to their room as he talked on the phone with Bobby, leaving Sam by himself next to the wreckage.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

The drive to Bobby's house was completely silent. Sam busied himself with Revelation. He hadn't made any headway last time he'd cracked it open. With Dean not speaking to him, now was as a good a time as ever to start reading.

As soon as Dean stopped the car in front of Bobby's house, Sam got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. Dean walked around the car, furious, to meet Sam as he walked toward the house.

"What the hell, Sam!"

"Leave me alone, Dean," Sam spat back, and kept walking. Dean put himself in front of his brother, cutting off his route into the house.

"We're going to settle this right now. First you ignore me when I'm being tossed around by a changeling, then you crash my car, and now you're slamming shit and acting like an ass! What the hell is wrong with you, man?"

"Dean, you've been yelling at me for two days straight! You need to lay off!"

Dean threw a punch to his brother's face. Sam stumbled backward and fell into the dirt. Enraged, he got up and hit his brother back.

The commotion brought Bobby outside. He immediately ran down the steps and toward the fighting brothers.

"Break it up, the both of you!" he yelled in a booming voice. Dean threw a punch at Sam's face, knocking him to the ground, hard. Bobby raced over and grabbed Dean, holding him back. "What in high heaven is going on out here?"

"Nothing," Sam replied with a grunt as he sat on the ground, holding his hand up to his nose to make sure he wasn't bleeding.

"Nothin' my ass! Get your asses in that house right now. We've got some talkin' to do."

Both of them stared at Bobby for what seemed like forever.

"Should I say it in Spanish? Get in the damn house!" Sam pushed himself up as Dean blew by Bobby and into the house. Sam followed with a grunt.

Bobby shook his head as he followed behind. He'd never seen them fist fighting this bad. Something had to be terribly wrong between them, and he was determined to find out what that was.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Thanks so much for your patience! Chapter 4 is here! Enjoy!**_

__"Do either of you idjits want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Bobby asked as he walked into the house. Sam was at the kitchen table, buried in Revelation again. Dean was seated on the couch, still fuming. Neither of them answered Bobby's question. "I must be speaking Spanish again."

"Sam isn't sleeping," Dean finally said.

"You mean not sleeping _well," _Bobby said, attempting to clarify.

"No, I mean not sleeping. At all. He almost got me killed by a changeling, and he crashed my car. Something's wrong and he won't tell me what it is."

Bobby turned his head and looked at Sam. The kid was just sitting there reading, as if he didn't just punch his brother in the face minutes earlier.

"Sam, you want to join the class for a minute, son?"

Sam didn't respond. He kept reading.

"Sam! Damn it put that book down and get your ass over here!"

Startled, Sam dropped the book and looked over at Bobby.

"What?"

"You want to tell me what's bothering you?" Bobby asked, crossing his arms.

"Nothing's bothering me. Why would anything be bothering me?"

"Sam, you're a fucking liar!" Dean interjected, getting to his feet and moving toward his brother. "You haven't slept in days! This has to stop, right now."

Sam got to his feet and met his brother in the middle of the living room. If Dean wanted a fight, he'd give it to him.

"It'd be easier to sleep if you weren't crying in your sleep every night."

"Spend forty years in the pit and tell me how well you sleep when you come back!"

Sam shoved his brother, Dean shoved back and in seconds they were rolling on Bobby's living room floor, throwing punches. Bobby rushed over and yanked Dean to his feet.

"That's enough! I don't know what in the hell is going on with you two, but it needs to end, now! This is ridiculous!"

Dean straightened his clothing and grabbed his coat.

"Oh it's definitely ending, now." Dean stalked out of the room, and Bobby heard his front door slam. Sam quickly got up and started to head upstairs, eager to be alone in his thoughts.

"Hold on, Sam. We need to talk," Bobby said as Sam walked toward the stairs.

"Don't feel like talking," Sam said, without missing a stride.

"I don't' care what you _feel _like, we are gonna talk, now get your ass back here!"

Sam stopped just short of the stairs, slowly turned around and came back into the living room. Bobby pointed at his research table.

"Sit down."

Sam sank down into the hard, uncomfortable chair.

"How long has it been since you've slept?" Bobby asked, his voice a bit calmer. Sam sat silently for a moment. He wasn't sure how to respond. Was he that tired?

"It's been about a week."

"You haven't slept in a week? So you thought getting behind the wheel after not sleeping for a week was a brilliant idea?"

"The coffee shop wasn't far… I thought I could make it there and back with no problem…"

"Apparently not, idjit. You could have hurt someone! You're damn lucky, kid."

"Yeah."

The room got silent again. Sam was starting to think this conversation was going to win the 'most awkward conversation ever' award.

"What's keeping you from sleeping, Sam?" Bobby finally asked. It was a loaded question, but it had to be asked sooner or later.

"I don't know… it's just, this whole thing with the angels, and the apocalypse, and Dean being back so suddenly…I've just felt overwhelmed."

Bobby pulled up a chair and sat down with Sam.

"After your brother died, and you took off, I was drownin in whiskey. I would go for days at a time with no sleep. I tried so hard to find a way to bring him back from the pit, and it almost killed me when I finally realized that I couldn't."

"How did you get yourself to fall asleep?"

Bobby reached for the bottle of scotch on the table and poured a glass for himself and Sam.

"Alcoholism." He raised his glass, and Sam toasted with him. He took a big gulp and practically slammed the glass down on the table. "Better than Nyquil." He slid the bottle over to Sam. "Take this upstairs and try to get some sleep. I don't want you trying to kill your brother anymore, especially in my living room."

Sam smiled and stood up, snagging the bottle of Scotch.

"Thanks, Bobby." Clutching his glass in his right hand and the bottle in the other, Sam turned and made his way upstairs. It was about time he get some rest, he hoped.

**SPNSPNSPNSPN**

Sam closed the bedroom door behind him, and set the bottle of Scotch on the nightstand. He stripped down to t-shirt and boxer shorts, and climbed into the rickety old bed. He reached for the bottle, and instead of pouring a glass, he chugged it quickly. When half the bottle was gone, he set it down and sank into the pillow.

_Bobby's pillows are much softer than those flat motel pillows, _he thought to himself. Sam suddenly found himself feeling _very _comfortable. Minutes later, Sam drifted off into a much needed sleep.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

A couple of hours later, Sam found himself staring at the ceiling, wide awake. The scotch had worked for a while...until Dean had come in and climbed into the other bed in the room. Dean wasn't asleep for more than 15 minutes when the groaning and whining began.

Sam knew the real reason he couldn't sleep was because of Dean. Every night since he came back from the pit, he shouted and cried in his sleep, as if someone were slicing into him with a large knife. As if he were being tortured mercilessly.

Dean quieted down for a moment, and Sam attempted to go back to sleep. It took him 20 minutes to get to the verge of a deep sleep, when Dean let out a shriek of pain. Sam's eyes snapped open and looked at his brother. He was writhing in his bed, groaning in pain.

"Alastair...please...no more..."

Sam could hear the desperation in his brother's voice. He could only imagine what his brother had gone through in Hell, and it hurt him to think Dean was still feeling that pain. The shrieks of pain started again, and Sam could take no more. He threw the covers off of him and went downstairs. He needed to get away from it. Not wishing to wake Bobby, he slipped outside and sat on the porch. The cold air whipped through his body, and he shivered as he sat down in a rickety lawn chair. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pulled his knees up to his chest for warmth. He looked up to the skies.

"Please, God, end his pain... please don't let him suffer anymore..."

Sam could say no more. He buried his head in his knees and sat there, crying and shivering, as a light snow began to fall. He'd given up.

**Sam's story doesn't end here...more to come! Stay tuned! I am excited about where this is heading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I couldn't wait to get chapter 5 up… I got excited when I added that last little bit to chapter 4. I have drawn from a recent traumatic experience for the hospital scene. My stepmother is in the hospital attached to a breathing machine. We all know she won't come out of the coma she is deep into, but deep down we all hope she'll just sit up and smile at us. I am hoping that writing this chapter will help me work out some emotions. Thanks everyone for reading, and please review! It definitely helps me to know whether the chapters suck or not. **

When Dean didn't find his brother in bed the next morning, he went downstairs to look for him. As he came downstairs, a shiver ran through his body. When he got to the bottom of the staircase he noticed the front door swinging open. Figuring that Sam had gone for a walk and didn't close the door behind him, he went over to close it. As he laid his hand on the door, he caught sight of a bare foot hanging off of the chaise on the porch.

He found Sam lying still on the chaise. The kid was soaked to the bone. His skin had turned a greyish-blue color, and though he was unconscious, his body was shivering. Dean screamed for Bobby, and the older man was on the porch within seconds.

"Get him to the car." Bobby said, reaching inside to grab his jacket from the coat rack by the door. "We need to get him to the hospital. Take every coat and blanket you have In the car and cover him with it." Dean stood there, dumbfounded. "Now, damn it! Do you want your brother to die?"

Dean draped his brother's arm over his shoulder and carried him to the Impala, while Bobby went inside to retrieve a hot water bottle. Once Bobby came back and got into the car, Dean pealed out of the junkyard and sped toward the hospital.

"Damn fool," Bobby grumbled as he reached back with the water bottle, tucking it under the heavy coat covering Sam, and laid it on his chest, to keep him warm. As he covered Sam with a coat, Dean yanked the wheel to make a right turn, and Bobby fell backward into the front seat.

"Jesus, boy! Where'd you learn to drive?" Bobby said as he gathered his bearings and buckled his seat belt again.

"Taught myself," Dean said with a half-grin.

"I can tell. Just get us to the hospital without killing us, please."

Dean nodded, stealing a glance in the rearview mirror. Sam's body was twitching and shivering, and his lips were purple.

_Please, don't die on me Sammy…_

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Bobby stood outside Sam's room in the ER with two cups of coffee in hand. One was meant for Dean, who was sitting at Sam's bedside, slumped exhaustedly in a comfy blue chair. He'd been by Sam's side for hours. The ER doctor had Sam on a machine pushing humidified oxygen into his body via a mask over his nose and mouth. _Damn fool, _Bobby thought as he entered the room and handed Dean his coffee. Dean took it gratefully.

"Why would he go outside and sleep on the porch half naked?" Dean asked aloud.

"Kid, I wish I knew." Bobby sat in the other chair at the end of Sam's bed. He hated to see John's youngest boy lying in a hospital bed with a mask on his face helping him breathe. He'd been so hopeful when he and Sam had joked the day before about the scotch helping him to fall asleep. He wished so badly for this to all be just a bad dream, and that he'd wake up in bed at home any second. The sound of the heavy door opening brought Bobby out of his trance. A middle-aged doctor came in, and immediately extended a hand to Bobby.

"I'm Doctor Fisher. I've been monitoring your son's progress."

"Thank you." Bobby said, rising to his feet. "How long do you think It'll be until he regains consciousness?" Bobby asked.

"Well, when he was brought in, his core body temperature was 86 degrees. If he'd been any colder, I'm not sure we would have been able to revive him." The doctor went to Sam's side with an ear thermometer. "I'm going to take his temperature, and we'll go from there." The doctor stuck the thermometer in Sam's ear. "Looks like his temp is up to 90. We're getting there. I'll be back in a little while to check on him. Feel free to ask a nurse if you need anything."

"Thank you Doctor," Bobby said as Dr. Fisher left.

"This is my fault," Dean said weakly from the other side of the room. "I rode him too hard about the car, and the changeling, and—"

"Don't blame yourself, Dean. Don't you do that."

"He had a problem from the get-go, Bobby! I should have tried to help him, not yell in his face."

Bobby got up and went to Sam's bedside. The kid's breathing was still very shallow, but he had some color coming back to his skin.

"Sam's problem is more than insomnia. Whatever he has going on ain't gonna be healed by a pint of whiskey." He reached down and put his hand on Sam's. He was still ice cold. Touching him sent a chill up Bobby's spine.

"I just want my brother back. I want us to be the way we were before I went to hell, before all this crap about the apocalypse, and God's plans for me, and all of this stress."

"It's not that easy, Dean. You're gonna have to say goodbye to that notion, and deal with the here and now. You've got to heal the relationship you have with Sam now, or you're going to create a rift you'll never be able to fix."

Dean stared at Sam, watching his chest rise with every breath.

_Please don't die on me, Sammy. I need you. _

___**TBC…. Please review!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I have been waiting quite some time to post the next chapter. I knew in my head what I wanted to happen, but it was so hard to write it out! I hope it is enjoyable. _

__ The better part of Dean's day was spent at his brother's bedside. After hours of different warming therapies, Sam's temperature was finally getting close to normal again. Dean was trying to occupy himself while Sam slept, so he brought Sam's Bible with him. He was trying to make sense of Revelation, when a sudden rustling from the bed caught his attention.

"Dean," came a small voice from the other side of the room. "Wha' happened…" Sam asked weakly, trying to sit himself up in bed. Dean quickly went to his brother's side and helped him move the bed to a comfortable position.

"You fell asleep on the porch, genius. In the snow. What were you thinking?"

Sam recalled briefly going out onto Bobby's front porch, and sitting in the chaise, but remembered nothing after that.

"At least I got some sleep…" he said with a chuckle, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Dean was not amused, but smiled anyway.

"It's about time. Just don't do it on the porch in your underwear, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a sigh. He put his head back and closed his eyes. He was glad to be alive and warm, but he was not ready for the talk he knew Dean wanted to have with him.

"Are you ready to tell me what's bothering you, Sam?" Dean asked.

_No. I don't want to tell you anything. I just want to lay here forever with my eyes closed. Go away. _

"Give me a few minutes. Then we can talk," Sam said, turning his head away from Dean. He needed some time. He found the TV remote on the table next to his bed and started to flip through the channels. He finally stopped on the news. He wanted to keep up on the latest apocalypse news. As he and Dean sat in silence, watching TV, the doctor came to check on Sam's progress.

"Ah, it's nice to see you awake, Sam. How are you feeling, son?"

"I'm fine – " Sam was cut off by a thermometer, practically shoved into his mouth by the doctor. Not even thirty seconds later, the doctor took back his thermometer. "You've improved, Sam. You're up to 95.9. I'd like to get you up a couple of degrees before we release you."

The doctor left, and Sam turned off the mute on the TV, sinking back on his bed and staring at the news like it were ice cream.

"Why are you so obsessed with the news?" Dean finally asked.

"It could be useful information, for the apocalypse," Sam said.

"Just turn it off, will ya? I don't want to hear about it, Sam. I just want to stop the damn thing."

"It's research."

"Shut it off!" Dean got up and snatched the remote, jamming the OFF button with his thumb. Throwing it onto Sam's lap, he turned to sit back down, only to come face to face with Bobby, who had returned just in time for Dean's outburst.

"What the hell just happened?" Bobby asked sternly.

"Nothing," Dean said as he sat down again. "It's fine."

"So you normally throw TV remotes at Sam?"

"Well, no – "

"Then what's eating you?"

Dean stood.

"I just feel so much tension right now. I'm not sure how to handle all this. Where do we go from here?"

_The boy has a point, _Bobby thought to himself. Sam was physically better, but he still had a long road to go to find emotional wellness.

"One day at a time, Dean," Bobby finally said. "You can't flip a switch and make everything better. It's a slow process."

Bobby glanced at Sam, who'd fallen asleep again. The kid needed all the sleep he could get. He just wasn't sure how he and Dean were going to pull the youngest Winchester out of this one.

**TBC… please review! Suggstions for Chapter 7 are also welcome!**


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: **As always, they boys will find refuge at Bobby's during the recuperation. As we know, from season 4, Sam is never really himself again, so I am going to play on that. Enjoy! _

_**Disclaimer/Spoiler: Possible spoiler for the beginning of season 4. As always, I do not own Supernatural or any original storylines. I like to write between the lines and bend my creativity… **_

_****_Sam was released from the hospital a week after he woke up. The doctors insisted on keeping him there a few extra days than Dean had planned, just to make sure he was going to be all right. Dean had to practically force them to print Sam's release papers for him to sign.

The ride to Bobby's was quiet. Sam wasn't feeling up to talking, and Dean wasn't going to push him. The kid still looked tired, though he spent a lot of his time in the hospital asleep.

Sam was relieved when they finally pulled up in front of Bobby's house. He was feeling trapped in the car. He needed to get away from Dean. As soon as Dean put the car in park, Sam got out of the car and started walking away from the house.

"Whoa Sam, where do you think you're going?" Dean asked as he got out of the car.

"I need to take a walk," he stated simply.

"You just got out of the hospital. You look like shit. Come inside and get some rest."

"I will," he lied. "I just need to be alone for a little while. I won't go far."

Dean nodded and went inside.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

****Sam made his way to a wooded path he'd discovered along the edge of Bobby's property. He walked a little ways into the woods, and stopped at a familiar clearing. He sat himself down on a tree stump, and rubbed the back of his neck. After all of the drug-induced sleep he'd gotten in the hospital, he still felt tired. He felt like his body was a sack of bricks. He felt as if his body wanted to give up working. He felt like he wanted to give up living.

He reached into his coat pocket and produced his .45. The cool metal felt so foreign to him, though he'd owned the gun for the better part of 15 years. He checked to make sure the clip he'd loaded into it last week was still there. With a shaking hand, he took the safety off and held the gun to the side of his head. He had to do it. All of this was just too much. He was done.

As he shakily pushed the gun into the side of his head, he heard a fluttering noise behind him. He turned to see a man in a trench coat standing there.

"Who the hell are you?" he said, turning the gun on the intruder.

"An Angel of The Lord," he stated simply. In an instant he laid two fingers on Sam's forehead, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

**SPNSPNSPNSPN **

Bobby was deep into a lore book when Castiel appeared in his living room, holding Sam's body over his shoulder. He quickly introduced himself to Bobby as Dean came running downstairs. Castiel plopped Sam onto the couch.

"Cas? What are you doing –" Dean stopped when he saw Sam on the couch. "What the hell happened?"

"I found him in the woods, with this." He handed Dean the pistol. "He was aiming at his temple," Castiel added.

"He was going to kill himself?"

Castiel only nodded, and promptly disappeared. Dean tucked Sam's gun into the back of his jeans for safe keeping. His gaze fell on Sam, who was still unconscious on the couch. Why would he still want to kill himself? What was so bad that Sam didn't think he deserved to live?

"Dean," Bobby's voice was normal sounding, almost soft. "Wake him. We're all going to talk this out, right now."

Dean nodded and sat on the couch next to his brother.

"Sam, wake up dude," he said softly. Sam's eyes flew open and he sat up quickly, almost knocking Dean off the couch. It took him a second to realize he was at Bobby's.

"How did I get here?" he asked, a little more than confused.

"A damn angel brought you home," Bobby said, getting up and coming into the living room. He sat down in his favorite easy chair, across from the couch. "He told us what happened, Sam."

Sam looked down at his hands. Damn angel ratted on him. A few more seconds of peace, and he'd be dead.

"Sam, we need to talk about this," Dean said, sitting down on the couch next to his brother. "You don't have to hide anything from us. We're a family. A seriously dysfunctional family, but still a family. You don't have to be scared."

He could never tell them about Ruby. About what he was doing with her. About the demon blood. That was a secret Dean and Bobby would never understand.

"It's not that easy, Dean. I just feel so tired. I don't want to do this anymore. I'm just, done."

"You're not done, Sam. We have an apocalypse to avert, here. Angels brought me back from hell to stop this thing. I can't do it without you, Sam."

"You and Bobby – "

"Me and Bobby can do the job just fine, but we need _you." _Sam looked down at his hands again. Dean grabbed him by the shoulders. "Look at me, damn it!"

"You really need me?"

"Yeah, we do."

Sam sat back on the couch, silent. They needed him. He was wanted. He didn't feel like he deserved to be wanted. Nevertheless they still wanted him. _Loved _him. They were his family. For the first time in a long while, Sam smiled. It felt good to be wanted again.

**SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

When Dean finally went to sleep that night, Sam snuck out of the house to call Ruby. He needed a fix. When she didn't answer her cell, he got nervous.

"Ruby, pick up the damn phone. I need more. Call me back." He hung up and slipped the phone into his pocket. His family made need him to stop the apocalypse, but he still had some secrets they would never know.

**END**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THANKS FOR READING!**


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